


A New Priest In Town

by Loretto



Category: Father Ted
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Male Character, Light BDSM, M/M, Priests, Roman Catholicism, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loretto/pseuds/Loretto
Summary: A new priest joins the gang at the Craggy Island Parochial House and Dougal isn't happy. In fact he's positively fuming. He turns to some naughty behaviour to win back Ted's attention. Ted is fed up with Dougal's misbehaving and takes some drastic action with some unexpected consequences.Not intended for readers under the age of 18.Based on an idea by NeedsMoreCheese.
Relationships: Ted Crilly/Dougal McGuire
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeedsMoreCheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedsMoreCheese/gifts), [Your idea - embellished a bit!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Your+idea+-+embellished+a+bit%21).



The new recruit stood in the doorway of the Parochial House, suitcase in hand, like a keen young soldier reporting for duty. His shoes were polished, his hair freshly combed, a new blue tank top fitting snugly over his shirt and an enthusiastic glint in his eye betraying his youth and naivety.

Dougal, holding open the front door, looked at his new colleague first with curiosity and then with a wry amusement. God, what a fresh-faced eejit this one was.

“Yeah?” Dougal asked.

“Father Nicholas Fannan,” the new recruit announced, “I’m here to start my new parish. Are you Father Ted Crilly?”

Dougal pondered on this for a minute. It would be very easy to say yes and have some fun with the new lad, but that felt like a big good idea that required follow up with loads of little good ideas, which he didn’t have. So he played it safe.

“No,” he said finally.

And then promptly shut the door.

He left the new lad standing on the doorstep while he wandered back into the common room, flopped on the sofa and reached for the TV remote. He flicked through the channels in search of Blockbusters while Jack barked about drink and feck and girls. It was all white noise to Dougal by now, such was his level of experience as a priest. He was twenty-seven years old and feeling suddenly rather seasoned in these things.

Ted came in from the kitchen looking harried. The last thing he needed was a new young priest to look after. He could just about tolerate life as it was - just him, Dougal, Jack and Mrs. Doyle muddling through together. A new face in the mix would change the household dynamics enormously. He remembered the hell that broke out when Father Fintan Stack joined them and he dreaded something similar, or worse. Ted knew the challenge of keeping the peace would be his sole responsibility and to make matters the new curate was Bishop Brennan’s snot-nosed young nephew, fresh out of the Seminary. Ted - and by extension Dougal - would have to be on their best behaviour at all times. Ted wasn’t sure he could cope with the extra concentration required to fly as far below Brennan’s radar as possible.

Dougal tried to be covert as he glanced Ted’s way, sneaking a look he didn’t want Ted to know about. It was a funny thing, he thought as he watched Ted bend over to tie his shoelace. He looked at Ted all the time. Nothing unusual about that. But if anyone was ever to ask him why he didn’t want Ted to know about certain glances Dougal wouldn’t be able to answer. He didn’t know himself. The fact was that there were times when he didn’t mind if Ted caught him looking and other times that were somehow very...naughty...indeed.

“Father Fannan is late,” Ted announced, looking at his watch, “I wonder why. The weather is good. They haven’t taken the roads in. I wonder what’s keeping him.”

“He’s here,” Dougal said casually.

“What?”

“He arrived about half an hour ago,” Dougal shifted position on the sofa, “he asked for you.”

Ted waited for Dougal to elaborate but he was met with a blank, wide-eyed stare that found its way back to the TV, all concentration on the topic lost.

“Right...” Ted said, “and where is he?”

“Who?”

“Father Fannan.”

“Who’s that then?”

“Godalmighty Dougal, the new priest!” Ted cried.

“Oh” Dougal’s head snapped up again, his face a crease of confusion, “is he that fella who’s been standing outside, Ted?.”

“Outside?” Ted exclaimed. He peered at Dougal curiously, “Dougal...didn’t you invite him into the house?”

“No,” Dougal replied. His face was angelic, resplendent in his innocence, “he asked for you, Ted. And you weren’t here.”

“So you left him on the doorstep?”

“Well...yeah,” Dougal nodded. What other option had there been?

Dougal had no idea why Ted seemed angry as he stalked across the room and into the hallway. What had he done wrong? He heard the door being opened, talking going on. Mrs. Doyle in the hallway now, hooting and laughing too hard at a weak joke. A suitcase was bumped up the stairs. Dougal started to feel a little bit displaced. 

“...and this is my curate, Father Dougal McGuire,” Ted announced as he brought the new lad into the lounge for introductions.

Father Fannan nodded at Dougal who peered at him from over the top of the sofa.

“Dougal,” Ted frowned.

“What?”

“Stand up and say hello!” Ted hissed.

Dougal rolled his eyes, stood up and shook Fannan’soutstretched hand.

“Howaya?” Dougal said, and without any further pleasantries he got straight to the point, “how old are you?”

“Twenty four,” Fannan replied.

Dougal’s smile swelled into a smug expression. Only twenty four! Just a nipper, Dougal thought, feeling very senior indeed.

Without waiting for a reply he sat back down and turned his attentions back to Blockbusters. Ted raised his arms to the ceiling in exasperation at Dougal’s atrocious manners. He took Fannan off on a tour of the house, showing him from room to room and explaining how things worked. The new priest was very polished, he observed, and judging by the amount of books and statues and rosary beads he brought with him he was very committed to the faith too. He had a friendliness about him that Ted warmed to. There was even a hint of sensible conversation. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all, Ted thought as they exchanged views about the Church’s position on divorce. Perhaps when the new lad settled Ted could look forward to a few interesting discussions and challenging debates to keep his mind sharp. Wouldn’t that make a welcome change?

Dougal, while happy with his newfound authority as the automatic second-in-command, wasn’t sure if he would like a new lad hanging around the place. He liked the idea of having a position of seniority but he also felt a strange sense of being...usurped. He’d been the baby of the house for years and had grown used to Ted and Mrs. Doyle’s spoiling of him. He liked his night-time hot chocolate made with warm milk, the crusts cut off his sandwiches, bath-time with Mrs. Doyle and his uninterrupted time to talk with Ted in the bedroom before they went to sleep. He hoped the new lad wasn’t going to encroach on any of his perks. He wouldn’t like that at all.

“Now Father,” Mrs. Doyle, dressed in her garish Sunday best and with lipstick smeared across her teeth, rattled into the lounge with her tea-tray. On it was her latest pride and joy - a wooden chest containing every type of tea on the planet. She opened it and displayed the extent of her collection to Father Fannan, “would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes I think I would,” Father Fannan nodded. 

Dougal watched as Mrs. Doyle gave a shriek of delight. She wasn’t used to only having to ask once. Father Fannan’s easy acceptance of her offering instantaneously projected him to the top of her favourite people list. Dougal’s heart sank.

“Now would you like English Breakfast? Or Earl Grey? Darjeeling?”

“Just normal tea for me please Mrs. Doyle,” Fannan smiled. 

Ted and Dougal exchanged glances as they looked at the vast array of teabags in an bewilderment. Darjeeling? What sorcery was that?!

“Or Assam? Roobios? Green tea?” Mrs. Doyle went on.

“Just a regular cup of tea, thank you Mrs. Doyle,” Fannan said politely.

“Or there’s green tea, peppermint, chamomile and liquorice,” Mrs. Doyle went on, “or what about chai? Or Lady Grey? Or maybe even decaf!!”

“Decaf tea?” Ted spluttered, “well really, what would be the point of that now?”

“Redbush?” Mrs. Doyle was relentless.

“Really, just a cup of builder’s tea will be fine,” Fannan’s smile had begun to sag.

“Ceylon? Or I think I have a little bit of Lapsang in here somewhere…”

Dougal watched the spectacle with a quiet delight of his own. Poor little Father Fannan had no idea what he’d let himself in for. It was most unlike Dougal to feel mean-spirited but he felt no motivation whatsoever to help the new guy out. It would serve him right, Dougal thought, for trying to take my place in the bonkers, eccentric and downright mad old bubble that was Craggy Island.


	2. Sulking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dougal's sulking and Ted's fed up.

While Ted and Father Fannan chatted amicably about the religion over endless cups of tea poured by the ever-accommodating Mrs. Doyle, Dougal began to brood. Mrs. Doyle fussed over the new lad as if he were a Bishop himself, bowing and offering scones and even jam straight from the pot, which was an absolute cardinal sin as far as Dougal was concerned. Ted had after all caught him doing just that the other week and the consequences had been dire. He’d been leaning over the kitchen table, scooping the last of the jam out with his finger, when he was jolted upright by the sound of a cupped hand spanking his bottom. It had been just one strike but a spank all the same. He had temporarily frozen in shock, sticky red jam glinting on his bottom lip as it quivered, while Ted admonished him for breaking the house rules. Though Ted had threatened to spank him many times Dougal had never believed he actually would. When Ted had finished telling him off Dougal had slinked into the lounge, his cheeks burning redder than his arse, to swallow his humiliation. He pondered on why Ted would want to cause him physical pain and spent the rest of the evening quietly seething with anger towards his boss and father figure. But later, as they lay in bed that night, Dougal had replayed the sensation of Ted’s hand making his bottom burn. The innocent young priest had turned over in bed, confused about his feelings. How come he felt so angry and humiliated that Ted has spanked him like a naughty little boy but at the same time the thought of it made his lad feel so good?

Ted was just as bad as Mrs. Doyle for fussing over the new boy. The time for Dougal’s daily game of Buckeroo had passed without mention because Ted was too busy laughing too hard at Father Fannan’s jokes to notice. Dougal folded his arms and sulked. At least Jack remained consistent. Dougal smirked as the elderly priest launched a whiskey bottle at Ted’s head and told him to shut up. Serves you right, Dougal thought as Ted rubbed his head, for forgetting that we even exist.

Dougal was horrified when he went into his bedroom and found a third bed lying at the bottom of his and Ted’s beds. A third bed. In his bedroom. Where he and Ted had their discussions about Things That Don’t Exist and Countdown and the curiosities of religion and all that type of thing. There was no way Dougal could tolerate the new lad getting in on his one-to-one time with Ted. The sight of Fannan’s neatly folded pyjamas on his pillow made Dougal incandescent with rage.

“Ted!” he called down the stairs, “TED!!”

Anticipating a calamity Ted raced up the stairs to find a sulking Dougal glaring at him.

“What is it?” Ted asked, breathless. He grabbed Dougal by the elbows and examined him closely, “have you hurt yourself?”

“What’s this?” Dougal pointed to the extra bed, “you never said anything about him sleeping in here with us.”

“Well where else is he going to sleep?” Ted asked.

“With Jack,” Dougal said with a careless shrug.

“In that barbed wire cage? Don’t be so ridiculous, Dougal!”

“The spare room?” Dougal looked at Ted as if he was stupid and rolled his eyes. Ted did not appreciate Dougal’s rather adolescent behaviour. It made him look like a stroppy teenager.

“That is the guest room,” Ted said, “for guests. Like the Bishop. Nick will have to sleep in here with us.”

Nick. He and Ted were on first name terms already. Dougal wanted to throw a tantrum and stamp his feet.

“But it’s *our* bedroom, Ted!” Dougal whined, “this is where we sleep and chat and come up with plans and schemes. I don’t want someone else in here with us.”

Ted softened his gaze. It was sweet that Dougal wanted his exclusive attention and he understood that he would struggle with the changes for a while. He smiled fondly at his young charge.

“Dougal the three of us will have loads of fun together,” he said comfortingly, “give Nick a chance. You might get to like him.”

That was not the answer Dougal was hoping for. He flicked his hair dramatically as he turned his head away and sulked into his folded arms. He would not like Father Fannan at all, he decided, because he’d already lost Mrs. Doyle’s affections to him and it looked very much like he was to lose Ted’s as well.

“Don’t sulk Dougal,” Ted chided, “it doesn’t suit you.”

“I don’t like it Ted,” Dougal’s pout deepened. He wished he had the words to describe the discomfort he felt in his heart. He wasn’t just afraid of Ted making a new friend. It was the threat to the closeness that had been developing recently. The pleasure he got from their little night-time chats, the odd cuddle here and there, the way Ted complained but never stopped him climbing into his bed after a bad dream. Then sneaked glances when Ted wasn’t looking which made Dougal feel warm and excited inside...though of course he could never admit that. Feeling silenced and misunderstood, Dougal sat on his bed and refused to come downstairs to join them in a game of Buckeroo. He quickly bored of his own company and quietly crept onto the landing, listening in to the spirited conversation downstairs. He was saddened when he realised Ted and Father Fannan were playing chess. He could never keep up with that. He felt suddenly very stupid and unworthy of Ted’s attention. As he heard Ted laugh at a joke Dougal couldn’t understand the young curate felt Ted slip a little further away from him as his desperation and panic grew like a balloon in his belly.

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. Mrs. Doyle served up an extra special pheasant roast in honour of the newcomer. She spent an unnecessarily long time encouraging him to try her gravy and quizzing him about his food preferences. Did he like sandwiches? Cake? Biscuits? Dougal sat across the table from Father Fannan, glaring between Mrs. Doyle and his own empty plate, wondering if she was ever going to feed him at all.

“Mrs. Doyle,” Dougal spoke up when his belly began to rumble, “M-Mrs. Doyle? I’m fair hungry over here, Mrs. Doyle.”

When she finally remembered her ‘little one’ Mrs. Doyle carelessly slapped a pheasant leg onto his plate while still chattering away to Father Fannan about peanut and pistachio cake. Dougal looked down at his plate and then up at Mrs. Doyle, waiting for her to cut his meat up for him, but she was too enraptured by the new priestly mouth to feed to think about the ones she was responsible for already. 

“I’ll die of starvation before I get fed properly in here tonight,” Dougal moaned loudly, but his complaints fell on deaf ears.

“And how about cheesecake? Are you a fan of that?” she was saying, “I know a very good milkman who can get me the very best cream cheese if you are!”

Ted watched Dougal hold his own knife and fork and try to tackle his meat. He sawed at it, clawed at it and tried to pull it apart. With a sudden slip of Dougal’s fork the pheasant leg flew across the table and landed in Father Fannan’s china tea-cup. Hot tea splashed over the new priest’s face and Dougal laughed out loud. 

“Awgh,” Father Fannan sat back in his chair, looking down in dismay at his tea-stained tank top, while Dougal cast a proud smile around the table as if he’d just scored an unexpected bullseye.

“Dougal,” Ted frowned, “you should be more careful with your food.”

“Sorry about that, Ted,” Dougal said, looking about as sorry as a winner of Bully’s special prize. Father Fannan glowered at him angrily. There was a cold, rather cruel look in his eyes that silently warned Dougal he would seek his revenge.

Dougal’s amusement in Father Fannan’s misfortunes did not last long. Mrs. Doyle went to fetch Father Fannan a fresh cup for his tea and returned with Dougal’s special Power Rangers mug. Dougal’s eyes widened as she set his prized cup on Father Fannan’s coaster and topped it up with more of that disgusting Darjeeling tea. Dougal slammed his fork down angrily. 

“Hey, you,” Dougal barked suddenly.

“Yes?” Father Fannan said politely.

“You’ve got my special Power Rangers cup,” Dougal said. He looked between Ted and Mrs. Doyle with a desperate urgency for back-up, “Mrs. Doyle!! He’s got my special cup. Tell him Ted!!”

Father Fannan made a big show of sticking out his pinky finger as he took a long and dramatic sip from the cup. He smirked at Dougal’s expression of rage and horror.

“Dougal he’s just using it this once,” Ted said calmly. He puzzled over Dougal. A thought, brief and fleeting, crossed his mind. Was Dougal a little jealous of the new lad? 

“No Ted,” Dougal frowned. His voice was raising, a tantrum brimming, “I want my cup back!! Now!!”

“Dougal, calm yourself,” Ted said, “you can have it back tomorrow.”

“I want it NOW Ted!!” Dougal stamped a foot, sucked in his cheeks and pouted, “he’s not to have my cup. You gave him my cup, Mrs. Doyle. How could you?”

Father Fannan dared to make a little slurping noise and then smacked his lips together, making an ‘ahhhh’ sound and grinning at Mrs. Doyle as if she was the greatest maker of tea in the world. Mrs. Doyle smiled bashfully and gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder. Dougal felt his heart beating in his chest like a panicked budgie. This new priest had stolen Ted, Mrs. Doyle and his favourite cup from right under his nose. Worse still, Ted and Mrs. Doyle were oblivious to it and even worse than that he was getting told off for it!

Dougal stood up and made to grab the cup from Father Fannan’s hands. As he tugged, Father Fannan pulled. They played a little game of tug-of-war before Father Fannan let go. Tea sloshed out of the cup, splashed across the table and soaked Ted’s dinner. Tea and gravy splattered Ted’s face and hair.

“Godalmighty!” Ted yelled, “that is enough!! Dougal!! Go to your room!!”

“What?” Dougal blinked.

“Upstairs, now,” Ted commanded, “I’ll be up to see you in a minute.”

Feeling like a naughty child told off in front of extended family, Dougal got up from his seat and slowly sidled out of the room. He kept looking back at Ted, hoping he would change his mind, but Ted’s expression was fierce. 

“Now,” Ted barked, and off Dougal ran up the stairs, two at a time.

He sat on his bed a little nervously. It wasn’t the first time Ted had sent him to their room for a little bit of time out. In fact, he was frequently sent there to think about his behaviour whenever anyone influential came to visit. Dougal didn’t mind. Although he didn’t like it when Ted was angry with him he felt a strange sense of comfort when he was told off for poor behaviour. It made him feel boundaried, safe. He expected Ted would come upstairs, tell him off, calm down and then go easy on him. He might even give him a cuddle and that would please Dougal enormously. He loved being enveloped in Ted’s arms. He decided that a telling-off was worth the extra few minutes of Ted’s undivided attention. If he was going to have to compete with Father Fannan for Ted’s recognition then he would make sure be a little naughtier in future. 

Ted left Dougal to stew for a while. He finished what was left of his dinner, smoked a cigarette, discussed American politics with Father Fannan who had a keen interest in the United States, and then excused himself to deal with Dougal.

“You go easy on the little one, Father,” Mrs. Doyle told him, “it was only an accident.”

Only an accident, Ted thought as he made his way upstairs. Hardly. The little bollocks had ruined dinner on purpose because he was spoiled by two surrogate parents who had indulged his every whim. Well there were four priests in the house now, and one of them was Brennan’s nephew. Ted couldn’t afford for Dougal to go on acting out. It was only a matter of time before Brennan’s ears were pricked about it. No, Ted had a responsibility towards his curate and it was time for some tough love. 

Dougal noticed Ted’s rather earnest expression as he entered the bedroom. He stiffened as Ted closed the door behind him. That was unusual. He never normally closed the door when he came to tell him off.

“Ted, look, I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t like that new lad, he’s taking over my spot…” Dougal began. When Ted’s expression didn’t change he felt suddenly desperate. He looked at Ted beseechingly, “and…”

“Enough Dougal,” Ted said wearily, “you’re jealous of him.”

“I am not! Me? Jealous of him? Come on, Ted…!!”

“You’re jealous because you’ve become a spoiled, over-indulged, naughty little priest with no proper limits or responsibilities for yourself,” Ted said gravely, “and with Brennan’s nephew in the house I can’t let it go on. You’ll be on a plane to a parish in Outer Mongolia before you know it.”

Ted sat on his bed and levelled Dougal’s gaze. Dougal stiffened again. This was not the usual order of things. What was going on?

“Come here,” Ted said. 

Dougal blinked. Did he want a cuddle? How delightful! Dougal loved Ted’s cuddles. They made him feel safe and warm and loved. But Ted didn’t look very cuddly at all. He looked serious. Dougal stopped short of throwing his arms around Ted’s warm, familiar neck.

“What?” he asked, giving Ted his best blank stare.

“Over my knee,” Ted said. He parted his knees and beckoned his curate.

“What?!” Dougal laughed, “no way!”

“I’m going to give you a spanking,” Ted said, “because God knows you need one, Father Dougal McGuire.”

“I’m not going to let you spank me, Ted! I’m twenty-seven, not seven!”

“I’m going to teach you to start acting like you are twenty-seven,” Ted said. His expression was grave as he indicated to his lap again, “over my knee. Come on.”

Dougal made a run for the door but Ted was two steps ahead. He caught Dougal by the belt and dragged him back. They began to struggle as Ted fought to get Dougal over his lap and Dougal resisted, trying his best to snake his hips away from Ted’s grasp. But with Ted’s hand still on his belt he had no chance of going anywhere.

“Get off me, Ted!” Dougal cried, “ you wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me,” Ted forced the young priest’s writhing body over his lap.

Dougal’s eyes almost popped out as he found himself staring at the pattern on the carpet, the blood rushing to his head. He wriggled and kicked his legs. He tried to push himself off Ted’s lap and covered his bottom with his hands but to his horror, Ted grasped both of his wrists in one hand and held his legs together with one knee. His wriggling was futile. Ted meant business and there was no getting away. Humiliation began to burn on Dougal’s cheeks.

“N-No Ted,” he said. His voice wobbled with the fear of the unknown, “please don’t spank me.”

“I’m sorry Dougal but you need a damn good spanked arse,” Ted said. There was a sad, regretful tone in his voice, “it’s long overdue I’m afraid.”

He looked at the round curve of Dougal’s bottom and felt a fleeting rush of excitement. There was something strangely arresting about how pert his was. Ted had a vision of caressing it rather than spanking it. He wondered how it would feel to run his hand over the smooth swell, how soft it would feel if he were to give it a little squeeze….Ted shook away the thought in horror at himself. What was he thinking? 

Dougal squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the first spank. He’d feel better if he could see what was going on, he thought. The nervous anticipation seemed so much worse. Ted wouldn’t really spank him, he thought to himself. He was just trying to embarrass him, that’s all. Being bent over the knee at twenty-seven years old would be enough to modify his behaviour. He’d let him go after he’d frightened him into submission, surely...

Thwack. Ted had raised a hand and brought it down onto Dougal’s right arse cheek before Dougal could finish the train of thought. Ted felt the sting in his palm which was closely followed by a howl as the young priest took the pain. Dougal gasped and swallowed as he realised his boss really did mean to punish him. There was a wriggle, a struggle. Ted gripped Dougal tighter and raised his hand again. Thwack.

“Ow!” Dougal yelped. He hoped Ted had intended to go easy on him, but the burn that was spreading across his arse told him Ted had every intention of giving him a very good spanking indeed, “Ted, please…”

Two more spanks. Thwack, thwack. Dougal didn’t know what was worse. The humiliation was raging now. He felt two feet tall and utterly powerless. He hadn’t been spanked since he was six years old and to be in such a position as a grown man really was the end. And the pain! The stinging, burning sensation was almost intolerable. He wriggled to get away from it but there was nowhere to go.

“Ow, Ted, please,” he gasped as two more spanks rained down on him, “ow...TED!”

Ted was deaf to Dougal’s pleas. He kept his eyes on the twitching buttocks of his young curate as he delivered consistent, hard spanks with the flat of his palm. His hand was warming up now. He’d barely started. 

“Twenty-seven!” he said to Dougal as he worked the spanks up into a rhythm, “you act more like a spoilt seven year old. It’s time to grow up, Dougal. Start behaving like a man. Like a priest.”

Dougal was momentarily shocked into silence as the rhythm of the hard spanks left him no time to catch his breath. He strained his back, tried to kick his legs, but Ted was bigger and stronger than he was. When he finally found his voice he let out a cry. 

“Ted, PLEASE!” he begged, “Ow! Ow! OW! That’s enough Ted!!”

“I should have started spanking you years ago,” Ted told him, “when you did that funeral and caused total havoc. I should have put you straight over my knee and punished you. I’ve let you get away with too much for too long.”

Ted’s hand went on and on. He imagined how red Dougal’s bottom would be underneath his tight boxer shorts and felt another surge of excitement. Next time - and he was enjoying this enough to make sure there would be a next time - he would spank Dougal’s bare bottom just to find out. 

“You don’t have to spank me, Ted!” Dougal exclaimed, “I’ll...I’ll be good now, I promise. I’ll even do Mass for the next month if you….OW!!! Please, Ted!!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ted said. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Dougal’s arse felt warm as he gave it a gentle rub, “you still need to be punished. Naughty, spoiled, jealous little priest!”

“I’m sorry, Ted!” Dougal was desperate now. He’d say anything to free himself from this torture, “I’m spoiled and naughty and I’m jealous! Ok?”

“You can expect the same spanking every time you step out of line from now on,” Ted told him, “I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee whenever I think you need it.”

To Dougal’s horror tears sprang into his eyes. His arse was on fire now, a raging torrent of stinging agony. He couldn’t help the tears of anger and pain as Ted’s relentless spanks went on and on. He tried to catch his breath, to try not to scream or cry out, but the pain was so bad he couldn’t help it. 

“Ted, please stop now,” he cried. He let out a yelp and gave in to the sobbing, “Ted..ahhh...ow!! Ted please! I can’t take any more!”

He wriggled and writhed. Ted gripped and tightened. Dougal was reduced to crying and sobbing like a boy as Ted continued to spank him hard, delivering his merciless punishment with absolute precision. He would continue lashing his hand across those arsecheeks until Dougal stopped wriggling and submitted to his dominance. 

“Ted PLEASE!” Dougal’s tears were flowing, his nose was running, his throat was sore from crying, “Ted...ahhhh!!!! Ahhhh!!! Please!!”

Outside on the landing a nervous Mrs. Doyle had come up to see if her two best boys were all right. They had been up here for rather a long time and the wee one’s dessert was going cold. She imagined Ted had taken Dougal to task with a good telling off, which always made her sad because she didn’t like to see her little one being admonished. But the boy was terribly naughty and she understood he needed Ted’s harsh words for his own good. She hoped Ted wasn’t being too hard on the old discipline. She didn’t like her little Dougal to be upset. 

Her jaw fell open as Dougal’s sobs floated from under their bedroom door. The boy was crying out loud, the great racking sobs of someone in terrible pain. She blinked in surprise and leaned in to listen. What on earth was going on?

“Please Ted!!” he was begging, pleading, “I can’t take any more Ted!! Please stop!!”

She heard the distinct sound of a hand slapping against a bottom in quick succession, over and over again, while Dougal screamed and begged for Ted’s mercy. Ted had told Dougal off many times but he’d never spanked him before.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Doyle whispered. 

She raised her hands to her hair as she thought about what to do. Should she leave Ted alone to get on with the business of disciplining his curate? Should she interrupt to give her precious Dougal some relief? 

“OW!!” Dougal screamed. His pleas were slowly fading out, giving way to tired sobs as he gave up and submitted to his punishment. The sounds went on. The act of spanking and being spanked. Thwack. Ahh!! Thwack. Ahh!! Thwack. Ouch!!

She couldn’t stand by any longer. She would have to intervene for the little one’s sake. She opened the door and caught Dougal hanging listlessly over Ted’s lap while Ted delivered stinging blows to his arse. 

“What is going on in here, Fathers?” she asked, “Father Crilly!! What are you doing to Father McGuire?” 

“Oh...oh Mrs. Doyle!!” Dougal gasped, delighted to have someone to rescue him, “he’s spanking me, Mrs. Doyle!! Make him stop!!”

“I’m giving him what he needs,” Ted explained, “which is a good old fashioned tanned arse.”

Mrs. Doyle caught Ted’s arm mid-sway and held him by the wrist. She looked down at him with a quiet understanding of his struggles as the senior priest trying to maintain order but also a warning look that settled his enthusiasm. The spanking, much to Dougal’s relief, was over.

“That is quite enough, Father Crilly,” she said firmly.

Ted released Dougal’s wrists and let him go. The young priest dived head-first onto his bed and writhed against the pain in his arse,searching for relief. His hands kneaded his arse cheeks to massage some feeling back into them as he sobbed big, ugly tears into his Ironman pillow. Mrs. Doyle sat beside him and rubbed her hand comfortingly on his back.

“How could you?” she asked Ted accusingly as Dougal arranged himself onto her lap and sobbed into her skirt. She stroked the boy’s hair soothingly, “he’s just a wee lad, Father.”

“It was long overdue, Mrs. Doyle. I think you’ll agree he needed some discipline,” Ted said, “I can’t have him giving out in front of the Bishop’s nephew. It was for his own good.”

“I hate you, Ted!” Dougal cried into Mrs. Doyle’s skirt, “I’m never going to do Mass with you ever again!”

“There, there,” Mrs. Doyle soothed, “go and get your pudding, Father Crilly, while I sort the little one out.”

Ted took his cue. His right hand burned and he flexed it a few times as he made his way downstairs to the more refined company of Nick Fannan. Mrs. Doyle folded Dougal into a loving hug against her bosom and rocked him back and forth. 

“My poor wee lad,” she said, “is your bottom very sore?”

“It’s on fire, Mrs. Doyle!” Dougal said self-pityingly. 

“Can I see?”

Dougal was not embarrassed in front of the housekeeper. She had bathed him more times than he could count and did not mind her seeing his nakedness. He stood up to loosen his belt and pulled his trousers and pants down. She gasped at the two fiery red handmarks on his arse cheeks.

“Oh you poor thing!” she said, “come on, I’ll help you into your pyjamas and then I’ll get you a hot chocolate made with warm milk in your special Power Rangers mug.”


	3. Father Fannan's Quiet Revolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The priest has got his sights on Dougal's job and is going to some interesting lengths to get it. Dougal's feeling more and more misunderstood and Ted gets an unpleasant surprise.

When Father Fannan went to the bedroom for his first night in the Parochial House he was most amused to find Dougal lying on his front, his reddened bare arse exposed and covered in Mrs. Doyle’s cold cream to ease the stinging. What an eejit the curate was, with his Power Rangers mug and his big red spanked arse. Fannan had his eyes on Dougal’s job as the top curate. Seeing that Ted was fond of corporal punishment gave him an idea.

“Look at you there,” he sneered at Dougal, “getting spanked at your age.”

“Leave me alone,” Dougal frowned. He looked up at the holier-than-thou new priest. His face had taken on a cruel expression, one which seemed to delight in Dougal’s pain and anguish. Dougal started to feel a little scared. He wanted to shout for Ted’s protection but he was still angry with the older priest and changed his mind. Instead he watched as Fannan came closer, hovering over him like a mocking evil spirit.

“What twenty-seven year old still needs spanking?” Fannan shook his head in dismay, “maybe you should go to Rugged Island Parochial House. Father Byrne wouldn’t spank you.”

“No way,” Dougal sulked, “I wouldn’t leave Ted. Even if he does spank me.”

“We’ll see,” Fannan grinned. 

As Dougal lay in bed that night, bothered by the unfamiliar sound of Saint Nick’s snores, he glared angrily at Ted’s sleeping figure in the bed beside him. How dare he humiliate and hurt him like that? He would never forgive Ted for giving him a red arse. Never. And would he listen if he tried to tell him that Fannan wasn’t as nice and pleasant as he made out? Ted might spank him again for being jealous. He felt so unheard and misunderstood he wanted to cry with frustration. He winced in pain as he tried to turn over, a reminder of Ted’s disappointment in him, and sighed into the darkness.

But something shifted within him as Ted moved in the bed next to him. He looked up as Ted gave a little murmur in his sleep and turned over so his face was flush with Dougal’s. Here, with unrestricted views of Ted’s handsome face, Dougal’s anger softened. He felt himself wanting to reach out and cup Ted’s cheek gently in his hand to feel how soft it was. Ted had told him he was spanking him because he loved him. Could that be true? Could love exist between them as priests and friends?

Ted’s hand dropped down the side of the bed and Dougal gently took it, careful not to wake him. It was a large hand, enveloping and protective, and even though it was the source of his physical pain tonight, Dougal noticed how good it felt to hold it in his own with a quiet affection.

Dougal remembered the look of steely determination on Ted’s face as he told him to get over his knee. He had an air of authority that had been...intoxicating. He thought about how he’d felt when Ted bent him over. He had been humiliated, yes, but wasn’t there also a feeling of being cared for in there somewhere as well? Was there not a sense of being more assured of the world around him, as a result of his spanking?

Dougal thought back to the feeling of Ted’s hand striking his bottom over and over again. He felt a funny feeling in his lad. It started as a warmth that spread to his balls. He remembered how he’d almost come to anticipate each spank, giving up control, giving in to Ted’s dominance over him. The feeling in his lad began to tingle. He felt it stiffen. He hid his cock with his hands, a little alarmed, as the feeling grew stronger and stronger, until his lad was as rigid as a retriever. He wondered if Ted really would spank him again. Thanks to getting off on the wrong foot with Father Fannan Dougal did not have to wait long to find out.

The next morning Mrs. Doyle had placed a cushion on Dougal’s chair. She helped him to sit down on it as if he were an invalid while Ted looked on in utter bewilderment. Father Fannan smirked as Dougal gingerly sat on the cushion, his discomfort plain for all to see. Dougal glanced at Ted and Mrs. Doyle for back-up but they remained oblivious. Father Fannan stopped smirking and pulled a serious expression as Ted spoke up.

“Mrs. Doyle,” he said, “Dougal doesn’t need a cushion to sit on. He deserves any discomfort he gets. That’s the whole point of a spanking.”

“You were too hard on him, Father,” Mrs. Doyle said, “his little bottom was as red as a squashed tomato by the time you’d finished with him.”

Dougal pressed his head into Mrs. Doyle’s waist as she reached out to give him a side-hug. He glanced at Ted triumphantly. Mrs. Doyle is standing up for me, his eyes said, so nah nah nah nah nah! Ted gave Dougal a disapproving sideways glance.

“Well,” he said, stroking his chin as he looked at Dougal’s smug expression, “he better start behaving then because he’ll get the same spanking every time he steps out of line from now on.”  
Dougal wailed in protest. Father Fannan’s lips twisted into a helpless grin of delight. He picked up a cup and put it to his mouth to hide his nasty little smile.

“Aww come now Father Crilly,” Mrs. Doyle cooed. Dougal snuggled further towards her, searching for her protection, “he’s only a young lad, Father. Just a wee boy. Can’t you just spank him very lightly next time?”

Ted gave up as his curate and house-keeper snuggled each other like a couple of puppies in a basket. What was the point of trying to discipline Dougal if his mother-figure was always going to spoil him? He looked to Nick Fannan for some sense of normality and shared a knowing glance with him. It was refreshing to have a nice, normal person at the breakfast table for a change. 

Father Fannan excused himself after breakfast and spent an unusual amount of time upstairs. Dougal wondered what he was up to as he lined his Star Wars toys up on the mantelpiece while Ted sat in his chair, reading a copy of Halo. They exchanged a couple of glances between them. Dougal looked at Ted nervously while Ted tried to maintain an air of stern authority. 

“Are you going to behave yourself today, Dougal?” he asked.

“Yes Ted,” Dougal said quietly.

“And be nice to the new priest?”

“Ted I-I…”

“Dougal!” Ted said warningly, “you know what will happen if you misbehave.”

“Oh all right, all right!” Dougal relented. 

Dougal looked crestfallen as Ted offered to show Nick around the island. He waited for his instruction to get his coat on but it didn’t come. Ted pulled on his grey anorak and then stepped into his shoes. He gave a yell of pain and shouted for Dougal who came running. 

“What?” Dougal asked. He found Ted dancing around the hallway, wailing in pain, as he tipped a wad of stinging nettles out of the toes of his shoes.

“DOUGAL MCGUIRE!!” Ted bellowed, pointing at the pile of nasty green leaves on the floor, “did you put stinging nettles in my shoes?”

“N-No Ted, I didn’t!” Dougal cried as he stared at the scene before him. He’d never seen those nettles before.

“Well then who did?” Ted asked angrily, “awwgh Godalmighty my toes!!”

“I don’t know,” Dougal said in exasperation, “but it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, Ted.”

“Mr. Nobody then,” Ted glowered.

“It must have been Father Fannan,” Dougal said. 

“Wasn’t me,” Father Fannan announced as he trotted down the stairs, “I wouldn’t do a thing like that to you, Father Crilly. I’m twenty-four, not four.”

“I don’t know Dougal,” Ted sighed as he put his shoes on, “you really haven’t learned your lesson from yesterday have you? This was a very naughty trick! And to lie about it as well!”

“I haven’t lied Ted!” Dougal was in a panic now. He looked at Father Fannan accusingly, “it wasn’t me, I promise you!”

“Clean up these nettles,” Ted said to him as he tied his shoelaces, “I’ll deal with you later.”

Ted had shown Fannan out of the door before Dougal could get ready to join them. He blinked as the door slammed in his face and began to cry. 

“I hate that fecking priest!” he wailed as Mrs. Doyle rushed to see what was wrong, “he put nettles in Ted’s shoes and Ted thinks it was me. I’ll probably get another spanking later!”

“There, there,” Mrs. Doyle comforted, “Father Crilly will calm down and understand that you’d never do a thing like that to him. It was probably just a silly practical joke. Now how’s your little bottom?”

“Sore,” Dougal pouted. 

He allowed Mrs. Doyle to rub some more cream into his reddened skin. Jack awoke from a nap, spotted Mrs. Doyle leaning over the little gobshite’s arse and shuddered, hoping it was all a nightmare he could wake up from later. 

“I’m baking a cake in the kitchen,” Mrs. Doyle grinned conspirationally after she had soothed Dougal’s aches, “would you like to lick the spoon?”

“Yeah!” Dougal was instantly placated. He hobbled into the kitchen behind Mrs. Doyle and was grateful for the cushion she placed on a stool for him. He sat down and held his hands out like an excited child as she handed him a cake-battered spoon, “this is far better than going for a boring old walk around the island!”

It had hurt Ted to close the door on Dougal. How he’d longed to take his best curate with him for one of their silly outings full of Dougal’s odd observations of the world around him. But duty called with Father Fannan, who was starting to be a pain in the arse. If Ted had done it, Father Fannan had done it twice. If Ted had one, Father Fannan had ten. If Ted knew something, Father Fannan had a PhD in it. After a morning of one-upmanship, Ted was weary and longed for Dougal’s innocent, wide-eyed stare. If his stupidity was good for nothing else it at least served to make Ted feel knowledgeable on a few subjects.

He fell into a silence as he and Nick walked back to the Parochial House. Ted found himself to be somewhat distracted by his own memories of yesterday’s spanking. How hot Dougal’s bottom had felt once he’d got a few hard spanks onto it. How good it had felt as he wriggled against Ted’s cock. He’d felt a stir in the old downstairs department that blew away a few old cobwebs. Ted had woken that morning with an erection so taut it threatened to burst out of his pyjama bottoms. He had to massage it back down to save himself from sin. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that the next time Dougal needed a spank. He might need a spanking himself if he had to seek his own pleasures. What a thought!


	4. Dougal's Guilty Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dougal needs another seeing to but his response isn't quite what Ted anticipated.

Dinner that evening was another tense affair. Mrs. Doyle hoped it wouldn’t descend into the same chaos as yesterday as she served up mince and mashed potato. Dougal eyed the portion sizes with keen concentration and made a snowman out of his mash, complete with peas for eyes. He glared broodily over at Fannan, hoping to rattle a reaction out of him.

“What are you staring at?” Nick asked eventually.

“He’s got more mash than me,” Dougal frowned to Ted. He turned to Mrs. Doyle urgently, “Mrs. Doyle he’s got more mash. You said there’d be no favourites!”

“Oh there’s no favourites, Father McGuire,” Mrs. Doyle said. She splatted another helping of mash onto his plate and smiled, “if you’re hungry have some more. Go on.”

Ted watched this interaction with interest. Mrs. Doyle was as bad as the lad himself. He needed a reason to spank him again and was hot on the trail of his next excuse to get his hands on that taut bottom.

“Dougal he hasn’t got more mash than you,” Ted said. His voice was calm but he knew he was bellowing smoke into a great big fire, “you’re overthinking things again. And what have I told you about playing with your food?”

“Ted he did have more mash than me!” Dougal said in exasperation, “and I bet he had hot chocolate in my special cup while I was taking Jack out for his walk. And I bet you played chess and let him play his records on the gramophone and now you think he’s the best curate and I’m no use to you anymore.”

“Dougal you’re being very jealous again,” Ted said, “we talked about this. Do you remember what we said?” 

There was a note of warning in his voice. Dougal felt a flash of excitement. He liked it when Ted gave him ‘the look’.

“I’m not being jealous Ted!” he tantrumed, “I just don’t like him being here. Why can’t he go to Dick Byrne’s place instead?”

“Do you need a spanking?” Ted asked in a low voice, “because you’re being very naughty.”

“I don’t care,” Dougal shrugged. 

“Well then I think you need to go upstairs for a little while,” Ted said calmly, “and have a think to yourself about why you put nettles in my slippers, why you lied about it to get Father Fannan into trouble and why you are being so rude to your new Brother in Christ. I’ll be up in a minute. You know what for.”

Dougal slammed his knife and fork down and stomped upstairs but inside he was deliciously gleeful. He sat on his bed, awaiting his punishment, and felt a stir in his lad as he anticipated the giving of his submission to Ted’s merciless hand. 

Ted again left the tension to build. He calmly finished his dinner, ate his dessert, chatted amicably with Fannan and then excused himself while he attended to Dougal’s discipline.

“Don’t spank him too hard, Father,” Mrs. Doyle begged, “think of his little bottom!!” 

When Ted entered their bedroom he sat on his bed and extend a knee in the young priest’s direction.

“You know what you need to do now. Come on,” he said, gesturing to his knee. 

He would not pull Dougal over his lap. As these spanking sessions were going to become routine he would wait for Dougal to assume the position and offer himself for a spanking. It added to the humiliation, which he felt was good for the boy who needed to learn who was in charge around the place.

“No Ted!” Dougal cried, “I didn’t put nettles in your shoes and Father Fannan isn’t as nice as you think he is. He’s trying to get me into trouble. Can’t you see that? I don’t need to be spanked, Ted. Really I don’t.”

Though as he protested, Dougal looked at Ted’s proffered knee and realised how eagerly he anticipated bending over it. He’d need to put up a bit of a protest first though. It wouldn’t do to be too keen. He didn’t want Ted to think he was actually enjoying his spankings.

“Oh but I think you do!” Ted said, “drop your trousers. I’m going to spank you over your boxers. You won’t know two ways from Sunday by the time I’ve finished with you!!”

Dougal hung his head and walked slowly to Ted’s lap. He burned with an excited humiliation as he reached for his belt and took his trousers down to his knees. Ted glanced at the perfect swell of his arse in his sensible priestly boxer shorts and swallowed with keen anticipation. Dougal looked at him forlornly as he submitted to his fate. He put a hand on Ted’s shoulder to steady himself as he leaned forward. Expecting a fight to get him into position, Ted was surprised by the curate’s sudden submission. He took Dougal’s hand as he helped him to bend over his knee. 

“Now,” Ted said once Dougal’s arse was in prime position, “what do you need, Dougal?”

“A good spanking, Ted,” Dougal said in a sad little voice.

“That’s right,” Ted said, pleased, “why?”

“Because I’m spoiled and naughty and rude to that horrid other priest,” Dougal said.

“Yes,” Ted nodded, “spoiled and naughty indeed.”

He smoothed his hand over Dougal’s bottom as told the young priest to keep his hands out of the away. He made a start on administering discipline six hard thwacks with his hand.

“Ahhh...ahhh…ow! Ahh…!!” Dougal groaned deeply after each strike but managed to keep his composure. There was no screaming or hysterical pleading. He hung over Ted’s lap and closed his eyes as each clap of Ted’s hand on his bottom made his lad twitch. There was something wonderful about having his boxers exposed. It made his balls tingle.

“Ahh…” he sighed as Ted delivered two or three hard strikes to the same cheek. But his groans were merely an acknowledgement of the punishment, “ahh…”

“Such a naughty boy,” Ted said, “I don’t like having to spank you like this but I have to give you what you need.”

“Ahh! Ted!” Dougal groaned, “Ow!! Go easy Ted, please!”

The fire in his balls travelled to Dougal’s lad. He felt it strain against Ted’s thigh as it began to fill out. Dougal hoped Ted wouldn’t feel it as he took a few more strikes and it grew harder. He groaned again, this time with pleasure.

Ted felt his own lad burn as Dougal helplessly wriggled against it. He felt the curate’s hip grinding against his crotch and stifled a moan as he delivered more spanks on the smooth cotton of the boy’s underwear. 

“Ahh…” Dougal hissed as the heat and pain began to build. His cock throbbed against Ted’s thigh as he took more spanks. It felt so hot, so intoxicating. He yearned for it to throb harder and let out a helpless moan that betrayed his arousal, “mmmmm!!”

Ted blinked. Had the boy just moaned with pleasure? Could it be possible that he was enjoying his spanking? He thwacked him harder just to make sure he was feeling the discipline. He felt a hardness pressing in to his leg. It could only be Dougal’s lad, he thought, and felt a warm flush of excitement in his own balls.

Dougal’s eyes widened as he reached the point of no return. His lad was going to give it’s own response. He felt his balls tighten, his groin flutter with the anticipation of an orgasm. But he couldn’t come in front of Ted!

“Ohhh…” he gasped as his arousal edged towards its peak. He really needed Ted to stop spanking him now before he had a terribly embarrassing accident, “Ted...oh Ted...no more…”

But Ted, blissfully unaware, continued to make keen work on that pert little bottom. He felt Dougal tense beneath him, heard his cries stop as he held his breath before letting it out in a soft moan. He was almost certain the lad was rather enjoying his spanking. 

And oh he certainly was. Dougal was in ecstasy. He yelped, groaned and shook beneath Ted’s hand as a roaring orgasm threatened to tear through every nerve ending. His whole body throbbed with the need to come.

“Ohhhh...Ted,” he groaned, “ohhh…”

Ted paused.

“Dougal?” he said, “why are you moaning like that?”

As the young priest turned to look at him Ted saw that Dougal has taken on that unmistakable heavy-lidded gaze of arousal. His own cock twitched as he admired how Dougal’s glinting lower lip and listened to the panting in his breath.

“What the…” Ted wondered, “stand up now!”

“No,” Dougal said. He clung to Ted’s legs in panicked shame, “I-I can’t Ted...I…”

Ted pulled Dougal up to his feet and turned him around to face him. There was a strain against his boxers as his lad ached to be set free. Ted swalllowed, a little nervous, very excited now. So he had been enjoying his spanking after all.

“Dougal…” he whispered, “you’re...erect.”

“I’m sorry Ted,” Dougal’s eyes were wide and pleading, “please don’t spank me for it!” 

Ted felt a familiar swell in his own pants. He needed to come himself and couldn’t possibly do so in front of Dougal. He nodded towards the door.

“Go and brush your teeth,” Ted said, “and get ready for bed. You can have an early might tonight.”

Dougal held his hands over his erect cock as he scuttled into the bathroom. Ted crept across the landing and listened outside. He heard a few tell-tale moans of pleasure. Dougal was pleasing himself, Ted thought, and longed to be able to watch him. He imagined him sitting on the closed toilet, his legs open, his cock straining between his legs as he worked at it with his hand. Sweet would be glistening on his top lip, his balls heavy and throbbing with the need to come. Ted put a hand on his own pulsing cock as he listened to Dougal’s sighs and gasps rising to become a long, protracted moan. 

“Oh Dougal,” Ted whispered as he went back to the bedroom to relieve his own pleasures, “how I wish I could do that for you!”


	5. Asking For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dougal finds himself wanting Ted's attention for reasons he never imagined and ensures he gets it.

Ted had a crisis of faith after that incident and resolved not to spank Dougal again unless he genuinely needed it but it seemed Dougal was making a fair show of asking for one. He filled Jack’s whiskey bottle with gravy and water, making him spit it out and fly into a rage that earned Ted a black eye. He put stones in Ted’s bedsheets, scratched the car with the handles of his bike. He broke the head off a statue of the Virgin Mary and left the jam jar out, a trail of jam all over the kitchen table where he’d scooped it out with his finger. He made his spaghetti spell out the word ‘feck’ on his plate and trod his muddy football boots all around the house. 

But Dougal didn’t do any of these things. It was Father Fannan, revelling in the chaos he was creating between his two Brothers in Christ and enjoying the knowledge that Dougal had his trousers around his knees to receive Ted’s hand as a result. What was lost on him, however, was how much Dougal was beginning to enjoy getting spanked. He liked the slow build of anticipation which would begin when Ted asked if he needed his bottom spanked. He loved the authority in Ted’s voice when he told him to go upstairs and wait for him. He felt weak at the thought of taking down his own trousers to bend over Ted’s knee, wanted to groan with pleasure at the memory of Ted’s hand on his bottom. After every spanking he felt stilled and comforted, utterly content with his place in the world.

As a few weeks Father Fannan ran out of ideas to get Dougal into trouble. Little traps set up around the house were amusing, and he liked listening to Dougal’s punishments, but they were not going to get the half-wit curate sent to Rugged Island. He was going to have to up his game. He stopped the silly practical jokes so he could think about a more sophisticated plan. 

With no more misbehaviours to be spanked for, Dougal found himself becoming increasingly restless. He felt tired but didn’t want to sleep, hungry but didn’t want to eat, argumentative, sulky and snappy. It had been over a week since he had last been punished when he realised he needed a spanking to feel a sense of peace again. With great surprise he found himself considering the merits of asking Ted outright to please just spank him.

Ted suspected Dougal was pushing boundaries on purpose. He watched the young priest try as hard as he could go earn a spanking but Ted quietly resisted temptation. If Dougal wanted to be spanked it wouldn’t do to give in too easily. Besides, making him wait only increased the tension. 

On one bright Sunday morning Dougal was so desperate for a spanking he came close to telling Ted that he needed one. But he was too embarrassed to do that. He didn’t want Ted to think he was some sort of mad pervert. And there was the faith to consider. If he asked for a spanking for his own pleasures it was sinful. If he was given one because Ted thought he needed it then it was holy penitence. 

Father Fannan was nowhere to be found on that Sunday morning, which Dougal thought was terribly bad form. He did not complain, however, because Fannan had proven himself to be infinitely better at remembering the Mass than Dougal could ever hope and the curate had found himself to be somewhat shown up by his junior. Mrs. Doyle had no idea where Fannan had gone. He’d woken early and gone out, leaving no note and Ted no option but to set off for Church without him. 

“Will you spank him, Ted?” Dougal had asked in the car.

“What?!” Ted almost choked, “no!”

“How come I get spanked when he doesn’t?” Dougal pouted, “and I’m older than him too. It’s not fair.”

“Because he’s not my best curate,” Ted said, and gave Dougal a knowing look that made Dougal almost gasp with pleasure. 

As they stood in the vestry, getting ready for Mass, Dougal looked down at Father Fannan’s clean, neatly folded cassock. He remembered all the spankings he’d received because of Fannan’s dirty tricks and a rare mean thought popped into his head. He could play a dirty trick of his own. He picked up a bowl of holy water and sloshed it from side to side.

What would you do if I dropped this big bowl of holy water all over Fannan’s clean cassock?” he asked Ted, “he wouldn’t be able to show me up at saying Mass then! He’d have to go home and get another clean cassock. That’s if he even turns up here at all.” 

“You know what I’d do,” Ted told him. He gave him a serious look.

“I don’t,” Dougal challenged. He wanted to hear Ted say it, “what would you do?”

“If you dropped that holy water I’d give you a bloody good spanking,” Ted said matter-of-factly, 

This was an interesting test, Ted thought. If Dougal dropped the water on purpose he’d know for sure that he wanted a spanking. Drop it, Ted thought to himself, go on Dougal. Drop it!   
Dougal squeezed the bowl tighter to his chest. He teased Ted by pretending to lose his grip on it.

““On your bare bottom this time,” Ted threatened. 

Dougal let the water slosh to the very edge of the bowl and then looked up at Ted with a challenging, dare-me glint in his eye. 

“No trousers,” Ted said.

Dougal sloshed the water again. 

“No underpants,” Ted went on. 

Dougal couldn’t contain his excitement. The thought of a bare bottom spanking was too much to resist. He caught Ted’s gaze and held it in a slow and controlled way as he let the holy water tumble out of his hands. It splashed all over Nick’s only clean cassock, soaking it through.

“Oops!” Dougal gave a look of teasing mock-horror and grinned.

Ted returned the smile. He knew for sure now. They caught each other’s gaze and a wordless agreement passed between them. They would continue with their spanking sessions for as long as they both enjoyed it but they would never acknowledge their pleasures, never speak of them. They would always approach a spanking as a dismayed dominant and a naughty submissive engaging in the business of giving and receiving discipline. 

Ted took a few slow steps towards Dougal and leaned into his ear, allowing his breath to tickle Dougal’s neck, making the young priest shiver with pleasure.

“Wait until I get you home,” he growled.


	6. Boundaries of a Different Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dougal's naughty behaviour takes his relationship with Ted into a whole new realm.

“Go to your room,” Ted told Dougal when they arrived back at the Parochial House, “and wait for me there.”

“Not again, Father,” Mrs. Doyle said sadly as she took their coats, “what’s the little one done now?”

She watched Dougal slowly climb the stairs, his shoulders hunched as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. She worried about his little bottom. He’d need to stand up to eat his dinner if this business carried on. 

“Throwing Holy Water about the place,” Ted said, “no respect for the faith at all, Mrs. Doyle. I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it but he needs to learn his lesson.”

Ted left some time for Dougal to think about his behaviour before he slowly made his way upstairs. The wait built the excitement and anticipation for them both. His lad was already starting to tingle. He tucked it more comfortably into his pants, hoping to hide it, as he opened the bedroom door and found Dougal sitting on the bed, waiting patiently. He closed the door behind him and took off his blazer. It was going to be warm work indeed.

“What did I tell you?” he asked Dougal.

“That you were going to spank me again,” Dougal said bashfully.

“On your bare bottom,” Ted reminded him and gestured to Dougal’s trousers, “take them down.”

He watched as Dougal slowly removed his highly polished Sunday shoes and put them neatly next to his bed. He didn’t take his eyes off the young priest as he reached for his belt and unfastened it. They looked at each other as Dougal let his trousers fall to the floor. He covered his crotch with his hands as he stepped out of them, fearful that Ted would see his semi-erect state of excitement.

“Can’t you spank me over my pants?” Dougal pleaded.

“I said bare bottom,” Ted said, “take them off.”

“But Ted,” Dougal protested, “you’ll see my willy!”

“Bare bottom,” Ted said, steadfast.

Dougal made a show of turning away from Ted as he slowly slipped his boxers over his bottom. He covered his lad with his hand and wriggled his pants to the floor. Ted admired the perfect roundness of his arse cheeks, delighted to finally see them in the nude. His lad stirred and he stifled a moan. The creaminess of them! The contour of each beautiful muscle! 

Holding his cock and balls in his hands, Dougal turned around and looked at Ted pleadingly. He enjoyed the part where he had to beg for a fruitless mercy. 

“Please don’t spank me Ted!” he begged, “I promise I’ll behave!”

“I’m sorry Dougal,” Ted sighed as he unbuttoned his cuff and began to roll up his sleeve, “you have deliberately misbehaved. You‘re such a naughty boy you leave me with no option.” 

Dougal let his shoulders fall. His fiesty naughtiness submitted to his fate. He was to be spanked, nothing he could do about it, and Ted would make sure it was hard. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked. His tone was a sigh, his eyes sad and weary, giving in to the knowledge that in just a few short minutes his bottom would be stinging like mad.

“Over my knee,” Ted said and sat on the bed. He parted his legs to make a frame for Dougal to lay on, “come on.” 

Dougal clung to his lad until he was bent over Ted’s lap. When he was safely balanced he let go, allowing his cock and balls to dangle vulnerably between Ted’s thighs. The sensation of air around them felt nice, sensual. Ted shuffled him into a comfortable position and then lifted his shirt-tails over his arse cheeks. 

“What are you?” Ted asked.

“A naughty boy,” Dougal said, ashamed. He closed his eyes as he awaited the first strike of Ted’s hand against his bottom which tingled in anticipation. He felt Ted run a hand over his bare skin as if smoothing it down. As Ted’s palm swished onto his buttocks he jumped as if in surprise, “ahh!!” 

Ted revelled in the sensation of skin-to-skin contact. Dougal’s bottom wobbled a little as he struck it, making a hard clapping sound. The creamy skin began to turn red.

“Uhhh,” Dougal moaned. A hand flew up to cover his bottom, “uhh!! Ahhh!! No, Ted, please!! No more!!”

“I haven’t even started yet,” Ted said, “put your hands down. Keep them away from your arse or I’ll take my belt off to you!”

Thwack, thwack, thwack. Dougal groaned and gasped through the first few painful swats. His cock and balls swayed like a pendulum as he received his consistent, rhythmic spanking. Soon his bottom would be a hot mess of pain and the pleasure would begin. His lad, swinging between Ted’s legs, began to swell. He moaned softly as the tingling loveliness began to flow across his loins.

“Ohhh...Ted,” he stopped begging, his voice melting into a gentle sigh, “ohhhh...mmmm…”

“Naughty, naughty boy,” Ted’s voice had become a low growl of pleasure. Dougal’s hip was rubbing against his cock with every swat and it felt good, “you’re such a bad, spoiled naughty little lad. I don’t want to but I have to keep spanking you like this.”

“I’m sorry, Ted,” Dougal sighed. His eyes were heavy-lidded, “I’ll be a good boy, I promise. I don’t want to be spanked ever again.”

His cock swelled until it stood upright and pressed into Ted’s thigh. Ted could feel the hardness pushing into his skin and swallowed a moan of his own. His lad was beginning to fill out against that glorious hip. The sight of Dougal’s arse, criss-crossed with handprints, made it stand to attention. Thwack. AHHH! Thwack! Uhhh! Thwack! Oh no, Ted! Thwack! 

“Please stop, Ted!” Dougal cried in a tone that suggested he carry on, “don’t spank me any more, Ted! Please!”

Dougal’s cock was rigid now, his balls throbbing globes. He gasped and held his breath as he felt the point of no return linger on the horizon. But he couldn’t let himself come in front of Ted. He’d have to hold back and cling to his orgasm until he could spill it privately in the bathroom. Thwack, thwack. As the spanking went on Dougal wasn’t sure if he could keep control of himself. He let out a soft groan. He was almost there.

“Ow!” he sobbed against Ted’s calf, “ohhh Ted, please stop!”

But the spanking continued, relentless, merciless. Dougal was wriggling now, his hip massaging Ted’s cock with every flinch. Ted closed his eyes as he felt his own pleasure grow. He would need to please his own flesh when this incredible spanking was over. It would be a fight between them to see who could get to the bathroom first. 

Dougal felt the tell-tale rise of pressure in his balls. The point of no return was here. He had seconds to convince Ted to stop spanking him so he could rush to the privacy of the bathroom to come. He wriggled harder, pushing against Ted now, trying his hardest to free himself from Ted’s firm grip. Ted grabbed his wrists with one hand and held him fast.

“Stop wriggling,” Ted said, “you’re only making it worse for yourself.”

“Ted PLEASE!” Dougal’s eyes were wide with panic. His balls were tightening, the pressure building, “I’m being straight with you now, Ted, I need to go to the...OW!!”

“I’ll carry on until you stop wriggling and complaining,” Ted said. 

“Ted!” Dougal whined. The orgasm was gathering pace. No matter what Dougal did now he couldn’t stop the ejaculation that was bubbling away deep inside his balls. He was desperate not to come in front of his boss but Ted wouldn’t let him go. He had no choice, “Ted...oh..oh….ohhhhhhhhhhh!”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as the force of ecstasy washed over his body like a tidal wave. The pleasure, thick and hot and delicious, made every nerve ending sing. He couldn’t help it. He had to release the greyhounds. With Ted still gripping his wrists he couldn’t even cover himself with a hand. His lad pumped the seed of his pleasure onto Ted’s trousers in short bursts of loveliness. He let out a long moan followed by a series of little whimpers. 

“Ted,” he sighed, “ohhhh Ted!”

Ted had seen the tension in Dougal’s body. He’d heard the change in his moans, the desperate pleas, felt the blast of warmth on as the boy came hard onto his thigh. He stopped delivering swats and told Dougal to stand up. 

Quivering, Dougal got to his feet. He held on to Ted for support and didn’t bother to cover up his lad. Ted glanced down at the curate’s throbbing cock, admiring it’s length, the silken head, the shape of his balls, and then at the patch of white mess on his trousers. 

“What the feck?” he gasped, holding his trousers out for Dougal to see, “Dougal what is that?”

“I’m sorry Ted!” Dougal whined, “I couldn’t help it!”

Ted stared at the evidence of Dougal’s ejaculation, feeling his own cock and balls tighten. He was hot and bothered himself now, a slight panting in his breath, a burning need to come on fire between his legs. How he longed to cup Dougal’s lad in his palm! 

“You dirty boy,” he said finally, “look at the mess you’ve made on my trousers!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Dougal cried, “I couldn’t make it stop! Please don’t spank me again Ted!”

Ted stood up and looked down at Dougal’s alarmed expression. He couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips. Their attraction to each other was profound and now it was Ted who couldn’t help himself. He put a hand to Dougal’s cheek, cupping it gently, and gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. Dougal took a shaky breath. He’d fantasised of this moment many times but never dreamt it might happen. The longing within him burned as much as his bottom.

“Dirty, dirty boy,” he whispered. He leaned forward, brushing his lips tenderly against Dougal’s. They felt soft and warm. He felt the curate sigh with pleasure, “do as you’re told and kiss me.”

Their lips met again, Ted pressing slow, gentle kisses against Dougal’s mouth, nervously exploring how he felt and tasted after years of quiet fantasy. Dougal responded in kind, his body an explosion of pleasure as Ted’s kisses filled him with a contented warm excitement. 

“Ted,” he sighed. 

“No-one can ever know,” Ted whispered, “but I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time, Father Dougal McGuire.”

“I wanted to kiss you too, Ted,” Dougal smiled.

“I think I want,” Ted swallowed nervously, “no...I need...to make love to you.”

They never told anyone what happened next.


	7. Who's Naughty Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mystery emerges in the Parochial House.

Father Fannan still wasn’t around for lunch. Ted sat down in his chair and wondered where on Earth Fannan might have gone to. Jack was missing as well. Where the hell were they? They had all week to lounge around. Sunday was not the time to go missing in action. Ted noticed the tin with the church roof collection inside it had also been moved from the bookcase. Strange, he thought. Jack going walkabout wasn’t so unusual but by mid-afternoon Ted began to worry about Fannan.

“Jack’s probably in a ditch somewhere,” he said to Mrs. Doyle as they gathered in the lounge to watch TV, “strange about Nick though. Do you think we should call the Bishop?”

“Oh no, not Len,” Dougal pouted. He gave Ted a knowing glance. Tell me off, it said. Spank me later, it begged.

Ted gave him a warning look over his glasses. The role play would continue. It built tension, made the end-game so much more exciting, especially with Mrs. Doyle’s unwitting audience participation.

“What have you been told about calling Bishop Brennan Len?” he said.

“That you’ll spank me if I do it again,” Dougal squirmed on the cushion Mrs. Doyle has put out for him. His bottom still burned from his earlier spanking. His heart fluttered with keen anticipation.

“Then you know what to do after dinner,” Ted said to him, “go upstairs and wait for me.”

“Oh nooo, Ted!” Dougal cried, putting down his knife and fork, “not another spanking!! You’ve already spanked me once today!!”

“Not again Father Crilly!!” Mrs. Doyle shrieked, “the little one can barely sit down!!”

“Oh Mrs. Doyle please don’t let him spank me again!!” Dougal turned to the housekeeper and stared at her with a wide-eyed urgency as he begged for her rescue, “my bottom hurts, Mrs. Doyle!!”

“I won’t my little love,” Mrs. Doyle embraced Dougal as he sat in his dining chair, cocooning him with her body to protect him from Ted, “you’re not to spank him again today, Father. I just can’t let you do it to him!!”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Doyle but he needs another spanking,” Ted said, almost regretfully. 

To Ted’s horror Mrs. Doyle began to cry. Big racking sobs that made her shoulders shake and her eyes blood-shot and swollen. She wailed and whined as she begged for him to show mercy to poor little Dougal, who was only a wee lad after all and didn’t mean to be so naughty. He felt a stab of guilt. His silly role-play game hadn’t meant to cause her so much distress. 

“Ahmm,” he pondered, “o-okay then, Mrs. Doyle. I’ll let him off just this once. But he must start to be behave himself.”

“Oh thank you Father Crilly,” Mrs. Doyle cried with relief, “you will behave yourself, won’t you, Father McGuire?”

“Yes Mrs. Doyle,” Dougal said, his face a deadpan expression of disappointment that his plan for a spanking had been foiled, “I’ll be very good from now on.”

“Now,” Ted said, cheerfully clapping his hands together as he changed the subject, “I think I’d like a cup of tea Mrs. Doyle.”

“Of course, Father,” Mrs. Doyle nodded.

Her concern for the little one dissipated almost immediately as she revelled in the delight of being asked to make tea for her boss. What an honour! What a privilege! She shuffled off into the kitchen to put the kettle on, leaving Dougal to squirm on his cushion and Ted to give him a flash of his eyebrows.

“I wanted that spanking,” Dougal whispered. 

“I know,” Ted whispered back. He looked around to check the coast was clear and pressed a tender kiss to Dougal’s lips, feeling the young priest sigh beneath him, “I wanted to spank you too.”

Ted thought about giving Dougal’s lips a little lick, parting them for a deeper kiss but had no time to ponder the matter further. His musings were interrupted by a hysterical Mrs. Doyle.

“Father Crilly!!” she screeched from the kitchen, “oh Father Crilly!!” 

Ted jumped back from Dougal as if he were on fire. He straightened his blazer and ran a nervous hand through his hair like a naughty boy caught red-handed in the act of misbehaving himself. 

“Wh-what is it, Mrs. Doyle?” he shouted as he made his way to the kitchen. 

He found Mrs. Doyle bent double over her prize tea-chest. It was completely empty of tea. Every single bag of Earl Grey, Darjeeling, Redbush, Ceylon, Rooibos, Assam and Peppermint had gone. 

“I’ve been robbed, Father!!” she cried, “all my precious tea has been taken!! Oh Father what will I do?”

She sobbed more ugly tears into her hanky and honked like a goose as she blew her nose. Ted looked at the empty box with increasing puzzlement. Mrs. Doyle’s tea-chest was as precious to her as a box of the rarest diamonds. Who would take it?

“Dougal,” he said in a low voice, “come in here.”

Dougal slinked into the kitchen, looking nervously all around, sensing the tell-tale curiosity in Ted’s voice that told him he was about to be interrogated about something. He looked up to Ted sheepishly.

“Y-yes Ted?” he asked.

“Have you taken Mrs. Doyle’s tea?” Ted asked.

“No Ted,” Dougal shook his head, “no I haven’t taken the tea. I wouldn’t even know how to make tea. I nearly set the kitchen on fire that time I tried, now. And why would I steal tea when it’s here in the kitchen in the first place?”

Fair point, Ted thought.

“Have you hidden it somewhere for a silly joke?” he asked.

“No Ted,” Dougal looked earnestly at his boss, “I wouldn’t do that to Mrs. Doyle. I love Mrs. Doyle.”

The housekeeper blushed and smiled through her ugly tears at the young priest. She came forward to give him a fond squeeze and he held her tight, returning some of the comfort she had given to him over the years.

“He wouldn’t, Father,” she said, “he can misbehave from time to time but he’d never do something as naughty as stealing all my tea.”

Ted hooked a finger around his chin as he pondered on the situation. Jack was missing but probably passed out drunk in a field somewhere. Father Fannan was also missing. And so was the church roof fund. Dougal couldn’t possibly be responsible for all of that. He was about to wonder if all of these anomalies were linked when he spotted a triangle of white paper poking out from under Mrs. Doyle’s tea-chest. He tugged on it and pulled out a note made of letters cut from newspapers and magazines. He gasped, glared at the others in horror and read it out.

iF yOU waNt tO SeE faTHeR jAck, thE tEa anD tHe CHUrcH rOOf fUND aGAiN thEn SeND thE iDiOT BOy tO RuGGEd IslAND!!

“Mrs. Doyle, Dougal,” Ted said, gathering his dearest ones close, “I think Jack, our tea and the church roof fund has been taken hostage!!”


	8. Behave yourself, Dougal!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted has a very special reward for Dougal.

Bishop Brennan was certainly not amused to be dragged back to the godforsaken dump that was Craggy Island, especially when the reason for his visit was to investigate the exploits of his own young nephew. An elderly priest incapable of wiping his own backside, a chest of tea and £14.56 of church roof funding had been taken and Craggy Island police were of the opinion that the person responsible was no other than Father Fannan. 

The Craggy Island Examiner had run three specials. The first was a souvenir pull-out about elderly priests, the second was an exclusive report on tea caddies and the third was a fund-raising effort to replace the missing £14.56 for the Craggy Island church roof fund. So far they had raised an incredible 50p, which had been donated by Mrs. Doyle. 

“We’ve searched the whole Island,” the officer announced to the room on the six day of the investigation, “and there’s no sign of them anywhere.”

“I’m very worried about Jack,” Ted said, “he’s never gone six days without a drink before. He’ll be going mad now. Have you checked the caves on the south side of the Island? I’ve used it as a secret stash for Jack’s booze before. Maybe he’s holding them there.”

“Are we quite sure,” Brennan swished his red cape about, “that my nephew Nicholas is involved? I mean he’s a very sensible lad. He’s Blackrock educated, he was top of the class in the Seminary. He has a glittering career in the Church ahead of him. I just can’t see why he’d so something so stupid.”

“He was mean,” Dougal piped up, “he was always trying to get me in trouble.”

“Shut up, you little bollocks!” Brennan barked, making Dougal shrink back on the sofa in horror, “as if you of all people need any help to land yourself in trouble. Even when you’re fast asleep you’re teetering on the brink of some Godawful catastrophe, the likes of which I have to keep explaining to the Archbishop!”

“Actually, your Grace, Father McGuire has been very well-behaved lately,” Ted said suddenly. He had been worried that Brennan would give in to Fannan’s demands by sending Dougal off to Rugged Island just to keep the whole sorry matter out of the public eye. 

“Eh?” Brennan blinked, astonished that Ted would talk back to him.

“It’s true, your Grace. Ever since I began to instill some proper discipline in him I have to say that Father McGuire has been exceptionally good,” Ted nodded, as if trying to convince himself as well as the Bishop.

“Discipline?” Brennan stared at Ted, nose-to-nose, “and what is that supposed to mean?”

“A fair few spankings, your Grace,” Ted said nervously.

“Spankings?” Brennan said, aghast, “he doesn’t need spanking, Crilly! He needs sectioning, for Christ’s sake!”

Dougal recoiled. He didn’t know what sectioning meant but if it was anything harder than Ted’s hand on his backside he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for that level of pain compliance just yet. Just as the Bishop was about to go off on a rant, the police officer got a call on his radio. 

Father Jack Hackett had been discovered in the wardrobe in John and Mary’s shop. He’d been locked in there with a pile of tea bags and an empty cash tin. Father Jack, who had benefited enormously from his six days of alcohol rehab, emerged from the wardrobe with the rare ability to speak sense. He explained that Fannan had found him waiting to go for a walk in his wheelchair on the morning he went missing. He said Fannan grabbed Mrs. Doyle’s tea and the church roof fund and stole him in his wheelchair, whisking him away to the shop while John and Mary were at Church. He had locked the elderly Father in the wardrobe, taken the money and fled to the mainland in a panic after John came home early to nurse a broken nose given to him by Mary. Jack had no idea where Fannan was now but he was very keen to get home and have a drink.

“Ahh mystery solved!” Ted grinned, casting the Bishop a challenging grin, “a nephew who takes an elderly priest hostage. What a disgrace, I must say. And won’t it be wonderful to have a sober Jack back into the fold for a change?”

“Taking Jack hostage,” Dougal said thoughtfully. He turned to the Bishop, “hey Len. Are you going to spank Fannan for this?”

“Spank him?” the Bishop roared, “I’ll black-ball the little prick! Where is my car? Im going to the mainland to look for him myself.”  
As the police officer and Mrs. Doyle scuttled out of the house after him to wish him goodbye and good luck, Ted turned to Dougal with a regretful look on his face.

“Dougal, I owe you an apology,” he said, “it seems it was Father Fannan who was the bad apple after all. He put the nettles in my slippers and the gravy in Jack’s whiskey bottle and the stones in my bed, didn’t he?”

Dougal, feeling suddenly embarrassed, nodded his head earnestly. 

“I should have known it wasn’t you,” Ted sighed, “those sorts of things are too mean - not to mention too clever - for you to have thought up on your own. It’s not your style. You’re too innocent to play such mean tricks on people.”

“I tried to tell you, Ted,” Dougal said in a quiet voice.

“And I didn’t listen,” Ted admitted, “and I spanked you hard when you really didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry, Dougal. Do you forgive me?”

Dougal brightened. He smiled at Ted, feeling once again understood and vindicated. 

“Of course, Ted,” he said, “I can’t stay mad at you. I just want us to play Buckeroo and talk in bed and go on our walks and just be you and me and Jack and Mrs. Doyle. Because I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ted said, taking the young priest in his arms, “and you know what? If you behave yourself today, I’ll spank you later.”


End file.
